


If You See Her...

by wavesketcher



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-09-21 10:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavesketcher/pseuds/wavesketcher
Summary: The Mystic Falls of your childhood is now home to vampires. What is more surprising, however, is that three of them appear to have fallen in love with you. (Or perhaps, what you represent.)





	1. Chapter 1

He asks again; “Please, what is your name?”

The suit he wears is dark, a midnight blue that looks so out of place in the autumn sunshine you instinctively take a step back. He’d passed you on the street, a polite excuse me, touching your shoulder and then – he’d stopped. Stared at you like you had the answer to the question he’d been wondering all his life. You looked away; to the fallen leaves, dead, under your boot.

“Do I… know you?”

“No, no… I’m sorry,” he almost smiles, pained, “I just need your name.”

“It’s… Y/N.”

He nods, “Thank you.”

And you watch as he walks away, slowly, methodically, without a glance backwards, content with a name and fallen leaves.

//

It’s later that evening you see him again.

“Y/N! Can you get the door?”

“I’m not decent!” You say in to the mirror, loudly, so your grandma can hear downstairs.

“Just put a dressing gown on! Please, it might be my parcel.”

Sighing, you push away from the vanity and pull on a robe. It’s obnoxiously pink but feels like slipping back in to childhood every night. “Okay, I’m going!”

His midnight suit looks even darker against the deepening sky and you can’t control the reddening of your skin in front of this handsome man.

“Y/N,” he almost breathes your name; releasing it like an exhale. You shiver.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“My name’s Elijah.” His accent tugs at the ends of his name. “I understand this is unorthodox but I had to see you again.”

Whoever this man is, he shouldn’t be here. And yet, his hand is on the door – just as you move to close it.

“Please. I can explain myself…”

“You need to leave,” you try to say but your voice is shaking under his stare, powerless.

“I’m a vampire, Y/N. I’m over a thousand years old and yet, I can’t stop… thinking about you. Your name, your face… it…” he sighs, “But you won’t remember any of this. If you see me again, you will walk away. Do you understand?”

Your head nods without your mind.

Elijah straightens, “Good.”

And he leaves as silently as he did the first time, melting in to night and leaving you breathless with confusion, mystery and most dangerously, intrigue.

//

Your grandma had lived in Mystic Falls her whole life. It was a sleepy town with sleepy residents – those that were born here, died here too. Sad, in a way. Its people belonged to the walls, the forest, the other people – everything pooling in to everything. But then there were the vampires. Folklore, of course, but a folklore that, like Mystic Falls’ inhabitants, was woven in to past and present.

And Elijah. The man aggressively played on your mind as you tried to sleep and crept in to your dreams. You awoke with a start, wiping your neck of the blood that left a pattern in your slumber. A vampire. You say it over and over as you walk to the Grill, dizzy with it. Ridiculous.

As always, the Grill was teeming with regulars; school kids, drunkards, friends and thinkers. Matt Donovan was sweeping through tables, a boy, Jeremy Gilbert, just behind him. He didn’t look much like a boy anymore. Grown and yet, tired. You guessed losing both parents did that to a person – aged them, unwillingly.

“Y/N?”

Matt pulls you towards him in an embrace.

“I’m surprised you still remember me,” you laugh.

“It’s only been four years – you haven’t changed _that_ much.”

“Rude,” you say playfully, giving him a push. “So… how are things? What have I missed?”

His face pales. “A lot but… things are better now.”

“You’re just going to leave me with ‘a lot’? Come on Matt, we were _neighbours_.”

“Look, Y/N, it’s great you’re back and all but trust me, this is better left in the past.”

“Right, I understand,” you offer him a smile. “I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”

Matt smiles back but it feels strained. It seems the Mystic Falls you left behind, left you behind also.

//

You notice him almost immediately, leaning against a lamppost, watching. It thrills you, quiet and full of warning. Elijah. But when you risk a look again, it’s just a lamppost. You snap your eyes shut to dissipate the teasing images in your mind.

And then you see him, walking, again, with lazy purpose, across the street. Mysteries have always frustrated you; answers are much more exciting. And this is why you follow.

Keeping to the slices of shadow cast by the main street windows, you walk several metres behind him. If he was dangerous, you wanted enough distance between him to run and if he wasn’t, well, that was the answer you needed.

The street narrows in to a path; the avenues shifting to large houses – mansions even. It makes sense for the man in the suit to live here. ‘Money Falls’, that was what you and Matt used to call it: the perfect Trick or Treating target. Yet, as you continue walking, even the trick or treating houses seem modest compared to these estates. You can only imagine the lawns that sprawl beyond their marbled faces.

Elijah turns suddenly and you push back against a hedge. Missing your shadow, he disappears in to a driveway. You exhale –

“It didn’t work.”

The voice came from behind – rich and commanding.

“How-?” You stammer, turning to face him.

He chews on his cheek, regarding you. “The compulsion did not work. Why?”

“Compulsion… What do you mean compulsion?”

Elijah takes a step forward – you tense with the narrowed distance. “I think we should do this inside,” he murmurs.

“Inside…?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Follow me, Y/N.”

//

It’s more like a palace than a house: a grand staircase, chandeliers, red velvet curtains hung in loose folds, draped from gold, stretched walls. Sensing your awe, Elijah clears his throat: “It’s a little extravagant, I must admit.”

“Now, now, brother. Is there even such a thing?”

You turn to see a man saunter in to the hallway – a wine glass in his hand. He looks momentarily surprised to see you before settling in to a smirk, “And who might you be?”

“I thought you were on a trip, Nicklaus,” Elijah’s voice echoes.

“I was… until I got bored. Travelling alone is so lonesome, don’t you agree?”

Elijah does not say anything. You try to control your breathing.

Nicklaus laughs, “I can hear your lady friend’s heart from here. She is _quite_ lovely.”

“Do not provoke me, brother.”

“Provoke you? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of that Elijah. _I_ just want you to share.” He smiles at you, predatory, and then, he’s sniffing your neck. You freeze, utterly terrified now. Elijah animates, pushing the other man to the ground. He places a protective arm in front of you, and you can see the veins in his neck, gasping for release.

“Territorial, are we? But unlucky for you, I am _bored_.” Klaus leaps towards you again, yanking your arm towards his mouth. In an instant, Elijah shoves you backwards against the wall. You wince, winded. The other man takes a step back, his eyes feral.

“Who is she?” He breathes.

Elijah shakes his head, enraged, “You do _not_ touch her.”

You place your hands on the cold wall behind you, steadying yourself. It feels too much to comprehend, collapsing atop your body, these men… not men at all.

Without looking up from his brother, Elijah speaks, “Y/N, you need to leave.”

But you can’t move.

“You’re vampires, aren’t you?” You breathe.

Elijah spins, appearing before you in a blur. “Yes. Which is why you need to leave.”

“Because you want to kill me.”

The danger in his stare dissipates almost immediately. The temper that dusted his gaze, now open and searching. “No, it’s because not even a part of me wants to.”

//

You spend the afternoon in your room. Vampires, the supernatural, Elijah, Klaus; reality has been dismantled and rebuilt with you, somehow, a fragment. You walked from the house for about ten minutes before hitching a lift with an old friend of your mum’s, occupying the passenger seat in shaken silence.

“Y/N, come down and have some food.”

“I’m not hungry, Grandma.” You barely look away from the ceiling.

“Fair enough,” she turns then pauses, “That boy called by the way.”

You sit up, suddenly wired. “Did he have an accent?”

“An accent? No, honey, it was Matt.” She raises her eyebrows, “He said he wants to catch up… Are you okay?”

You can’t lie to your grandma, no one can. Choosing, instead, not to answer, you stand and attempt a smile. It feels wrong. “I’ll go and see him now.”

Talking to Matt was priority. If not for enlightenment, for some normalcy. He was always the anchor in the messiness of life in this town, and you for him – you don’t think you’d ever not feel the twinge of guilt when you saw him. For being able to escape.

Turning down your old road is like revisiting a forgotten timeline. The oak tree you’d carved your name in to, the fence you’d got your first splinter from – it was all there, preserved, a time capsule. A part of you felt betrayed by the existence of vampires. How dare they come and re-write all that you knew? You left this town knowing it would never change. The reason why you left it.

You’re just about to knock on Matt’s door when you notice Elena Gilbert across the road. She is talking to someone – a man, you think – their back to you. He turns to walk away and you duck, immediately. Elijah disappears down an alley, leaving Elena frowning. You place a hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it.

“Elena!”

She looks over in your direction. You cross the road, urgent.

“Do you remember me?” you ask, stopping awkwardly in front of her, unsure of how to articulate.

“Wait, Y/N? Matt’s neighbour?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

She smiles, “It’s good to see you.”

You smile back as best you can. “I – er, I heard about your parents. I’m sorry.”

Elena blinks, for a second, as though remembering. Like Jeremy, she wears a wearied, tired expression that shows through her smile.

You swallow, “Who was that man you were talking to?”

She _almost_ catches her uncertainty in time. “Oh, just a family friend.”

“This is going to sound crazy but, I think he’s…. He’s not safe, Elena.”

Realisation draws across her face, “You must be the girl.”

“What do you-”

“You have to come with me,” Elena interrupts, grabbing your hand.

//

The car ride is short but threaded with the unspoken. Elena looks perturbed, glancing at you wearily every few moments. The truth you want is one you’re afraid to ask. You settle for small talk instead.  

“I’m guessing you and Matt are still together,” you offer.

“What? Oh, no. We broke up a few years ago.”

She stops the car before you can say anything else, announcing the arrival of another very large house, albeit not quite as ostentatious as Elijah’s.

“Why are we here?” You ask tentatively.

“There are some people we need to speak too,” she answers, opening the car door. “Come on.”

She walks ahead to knock on the imposing looking front-door, dark and uninviting. You step out on to the gravel, check your phone is still in your back pocket, and run.

“Y/N!”

You hear her begin running after you.

“Y/N! Wait! It’s not safe!” She pants, “Please, stop!”

But she hasn’t caught up to you. If she were a vampire, she would have. You slow down, breathing heavily. Elena smiles, tentative.

“I know this is all really scary, but… you can’t do it alone,” she says carefully.

You stay silent.

“It’s safer in the house, Y/N. Trust me.”

You stare at her bewildered, “How do I know there aren’t just going to be more vampires in there!?”

“She’s right, Elena. You can never be too careful.”

This time your heart leaps at the voice behind you, almost throwing you off balance.

“Damon!” Elena snaps.

The man smirks, arrogant, very, and the most striking man you have ever seen. It’s startling. Damon settles comfortably in to your stare, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid I am indeed a vampire, friend of Elena’s. _But_ I am one of the good ones. Now, at least,” he grins.

Elena touches your shoulder, “He’s not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Y/N… pretty name for a pretty girl,” Damon smiles and you have to look away.

“Damon...,” Elena warns.

“I don’t bite,” he jokes, reaching for your hand in chivalry. For a moment, it falls helplessly in to his before he drops your fingers, as if burned. You glance up at him and he is staring at you with something like shock, only more tender.

Elena breaks the silence. “Stop being weird, Damon. Being a vampire is already freaking Y/N out enough.”

He blinks, “Right. My bad... Let’s head in, shall we?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Salvatore residence – as Damon calls it, sweeping his arm across the hall – seems extracted from a Gothic novel. It is the first thing you encounter that actually fits your description of the ‘vampire’; shadowy and antique. From the wooden beams oppressively framing the ceiling, to the dark blood-like curtains, you stiffen in their presence. Elena glances at your nervously, perhaps expecting you to run again.

“And this… is my brother, Stefan.”

Damon lets his hand fall in the direction of the man sitting, relaxed, against a crimson couch. He is reading, absorbed in the story.

“Stefan,” Elena tries and the man looks up, settling warmly in to her gaze. _He’s in love with her._ _A human._

Stefan shifts his gaze to you and widens his eyes. Like Damon, he is unreasonably attractive but softer; less mystery, more safety. But a vampire, all the same.

“This is Y/N,” Elena supplies in to the silence. You try for a smile but it dissolves.

Damon moves to sit on the end of the couch, taking the book from Stefan’s hand and leafing through the pages. He speaks without looking up. “Great. Now that we’re all acquainted…. Elena?”

The brunette sighs, “Elijah came to see me.”

At this the two vampires straighten, Damon’s eyes sharpening in concern.

“He said that there was a girl he had met – he couldn’t explain it but there was something different about her. He thought that Klaus had felt it too.”

You feel Damon’s glance immediately, before it shifts back to Elena, leaving you burned and slightly pink. He pushes the hair away from his forehead and sighs, “So this is a Klaus problem.”

“Maybe. Elijah just asked me to look out for her. He seemed concerned. I’ve never seen him like it.”

“Why?” It falls out of you before you can process a thought and the two vampires turn toward you. Doubting your ability to maintain composure in Damon’s stare, you look instead to Stefan. His brow is furrowed, folding his broad face in lines.

“I have no idea,” he says honestly. And you believe him.

An English accent disrupts, suddenly, the puzzled thinking, playful and powerful: “Knock, knock.”

Your own reaction is silenced by Damon’s hand latching on to yours. The sitting room blurs in to colours but you can’t scream. Only the arm around your waist is firm amongst the spinning and then, in a second, you’re on dark floorboards, dizzy with the movement. Damon places a cold finger against your lips and the world stops turning.

“We need to hide,” he breathes.

His finger leaves your lip cold and wanting and finds your hand again. For a moment you’re sure he closes his eyes as he touches you, overwhelmed in an instant. You move behind one of the thick curtains and he pushes you gently against the ice of the window. Finally stationary, your ears register the outside – the voices from downstairs that carry, threateningly in to Damon’s… bedroom?

“Where _is_ your delightful brother, Stefan?” Klaus speaks with the same flirtatious potency as he did in the mansion. As if he asks questions purely for the fun of it, perfectly aware of the answer.

“You know, Damon, always disappearing.”

“That’s just the thing… I do know Damon. And he always hates to miss out on an Elena-Stefan party… I think he’s _hiding_.”

Stefan’s voice firms, “Why would he be hiding, Klaus?”

You risk a glance at the vampire next to you, his breathing almost distant. His eyes are focused ahead, dangerous. A part of you wants to reach for his hand again.

“Dammmooooon?” The voice is louder. Damon clenches his jaw, preparing for battle. You push further against the window, the wooden ridges biting your back. Damon blinks and moves, suddenly, from the curtain, folding yourself in to it.

“Klaus, I had no idea you missed me that much.” If there was fear, the raven-haired vampire left it behind the curtain, effortlessly matching Klaus’ playfulness.

“I thought I’d find you up here. Entertaining, I’m sure. Anyone in particular?” Klaus’ presence consumes the room.

“You know, I did one of those online quiz things and found that I’m actually an ambivert-“

“There’s no point hiding her, Damon. I can hear her.”

The floorboards squirm beneath his step and you slam your eyes shut, wanting to slam everything up – here, the moment your throat will be –

Klaus exposes you in a single movement. Damon stills.

“Y/N.” He says your name with a quiet delight. You want to rip it from your ears.

Damon steps forward and Klaus turns, half smiling, “It’s adorable you thought you could hide her behind a curtain.”

“Careful, Klaus.”

“Relax, Damon. I only want to invite Miss Y/N to dinner.”

 _Dinner._ You search for the predator behind the word and find… something akin to vulnerability.

“She’s not going to do that,” Damon growls.

Klaus spins from the curtain, irritated. “I think Y/N can make her own decisions.”

Damon catches your terror in his eyes and softens, just slightly, and you try to find comfort in the beautiful stranger’s sight.

“Do you think I want to kill her?” Klaus questions and Damon pulls away from your fear. He straightens, hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance.

“Maybe. But first I think you want to play with her.”

You fight your mind from chasing the darkness behind that assumption.

Klaus glances at you, masked, “Play with her? There’s no need for vulgarity, Damon. Not in front of a lady.”

The vampire doesn’t reply.

And, bowing slightly in your direction, Klaus says, “Tomorrow. Seven P.M.”

Like Damon, you remain silent and Klaus gives a small laugh, “I’ll let myself out.”

 

* * *

 

 

Damon flops on to his bed in a sigh but you don’t move until Stefan enters the room. “He’s gone.”

You look at Elena for confirmation and she nods, “You’re safe, Y/N.”

Stepping out from against the window, your arms replace the heavy curtain, curling around yourself – shivering.

“Arrogant dick,” Damon mutters.

And yet, from Elena’s concerned face, Stefan’s confusion and Damon’s…  (you aren’t sure where to begin with Damon), you know this is the time to be brave. “I have to go,” you say quietly.

At this the vampire springs up, incredulous. “What!? Are you – is she compelled!?”

You swallow, “I don’t think I can be compelled.”

Stefan steps forward, shaking his head. “That’s impossible, you’re human.”

“Elijah tried… but it didn’t work,” you shrug.

Damon jumps up from the bed and begins to pace around the room. “Have you let any of them in your house?”

“My house? No…”

He stops pacing and captures you, again, in his intensity. “Great, okay, I’ll take you there now.”

You look toward Stefan and Elena for explanation, desperate for a translator in this strange new world you unknowingly stumbled in to.

“Vampires have to be invited in to a house to enter,” Stefan supplies, “Elijah and Klaus can’t hurt you there.”

Damon slaps his hands down, exasperated, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Perhaps noticing my hesitant expression, Elena smiles and looks at Damon, “We’ll all go.”

 

* * *

 

Damon drives fast – as expected. You catch his serious expression in the wing mirror. Why he is so desperate to protect you – why any of them are – you have no idea. It is both comforting and deeply unsettling.

Stefan, in the passenger seat, tilts his voice toward you: “So, Y/N, how was Mystic Falls… before you found out about vampires.”

“The same,” you respond, “… until I found out about vampires.”

He laughs and Elena nods, “Story of my life.”

Silence settles again and you sit under the weight of it all, entirely out of place. You raise your head and find Damon looking at you in the central mirror.

“How long have you – all of you – been in Mystic Falls?” You can’t help but speak in to the reflected stare.

You hear the smirk in Damon’s voice. “A few years… we weren’t meant to stay this long but then Stefan fell in loveeeee,” he pauses, “And I did too. Not quite sure what came over me.”

“Hey!” Elena jokes, rolling her eyes. Stefan stays silent, a broody stare now captivated by the trees beyond the window.

 _She had both of them. Elena. Two vampires in love with her… and she made a choice._ You don’t dare glance at the central mirror again.

Even the outside of your grandma’s house looks unfamiliar with the rearranging of your reality. The supernatural hangs awkwardly at every corner – broken and ridiculously enchanting. And, watching the raven-haired vampire climb out of the car, you realise: intoxicating.

“Elena,” Damon says with a bow, opening the door for her.

“Why thank you, Damon,” she jokes, taking his hand. You wonder if he’ll do the same for you, offer his hand, and you try not to analyse why you care that he doesn’t.

“I’m… sorry. About what happened today. I know you didn’t ask for any of it.” He looks out across the road as he speaks to you, squinting in to the distance. You want to thank him for trying to conceal you, ask him why he was so scared – this vampire, this powerful creature terrified, even if only a moment, for your safety. But standing outside your house he looks nothing more than a man, a mystery, but a man all the same; confused. And it’s the human in him that makes it so hard to respond.

“It’s probably best if you stay inside. Just until we find out what Klaus wants,” Stefan says carefully.

Elena places a hand on your shoulder, “I know this is horrible but if you need anything, just give me a call, okay?”

You look up at the house and back her in exasperation, “I’m not allowed to leave.”

“No,” Damon says firmly.

You stare at him in disbelief, “Why do you care so much?”

He opens his mouth then stops, looking to the ground. Your heart proliferates and your angry now, at all of them, thinking they can control you, that you understand any of this, that you _want_ to understand any of this. Damon’s right, you didn’t ask for it. To gain the attention from any of these vampires…. Elijah, Klaus and now Damon.

“What do I tell my grandma?” you sigh, acquiescing.

“We can compel her if you want,” Stefan offers.

You stare at him, shaking your head. “What!? No-“

“Y/N.” Elena speaks softly, taking your hand. “This vampire stuff is a lot to take in but it’s also dangerous. _Klaus_ is dangerous.”

The shaking in your hands, your heart, begins to settle. You look at Stefan’s bowed head and nod, slowly. “Okay. Fine, whatever will keep her safe.”

Elena smiles tightly and turns, “Damon?”

You turn with her, meeting nothing but the empty street and swollen lamp light.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

It’s only been over twenty-hours of insubordination and you’re restless. Something about being told you can’t leave sets your mind alight and throbbing with need to escape.

You free your leg from the covers and reach over for your phone. Elena has stopped texting you hours ago, preoccupied, understandably, with the parade of vampires in her life – ridiculously _attractive_ vampires. Sighing you turn your attention to the sky outside; alive, and liberated, with the whispers of nightfall. Dusk is turning and so is your patience. How long Elena and co were going to take finding these elusive answers, you have no idea, and the prospect of indefinite imprisonment makes your heart race in desperation. Your fingers thumb over the keypad, forming the ghost of a plea to Elena. She is the person to reason with and Stefan will do whatever she asks. As for Damon…you doubt you’ll ever really know.

You begin to type: _Sorry to ask again but just seeing if you’ve made any progress… I’m getting a bit freaked out being trapped here lol_

And press send just as a knock sounds downstairs.

“There’s a man in a suit outside,” your grandma shouts from the sitting room and you stiffen.

“Don’t answer it! It’s for me,” you respond, charging downstairs and capturing Elijah’s profile in the frosted front door window. You open before your brain can catch up.

The vampire looks momentarily surprised and clears his throat. “Thank you for opening,” he says softly, calmly.

“I’m not allowed to leave,” you say by way of explanation.

He regards your attire: leggings and a hoodie and looks almost playful, perhaps an echo of his brother. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes being told what to do.”

You stand straighter in his stare, “I like my free will.”

Elijah’s mouth twitches in a knowing smile, shy and careful. His power rolls off him in slow, undulant waves and entirely unlike Klaus’ sophic wielding. The vampire in front of you tilts his head, “Then you must understand that you’re staying here for your protection.”

You don’t respond and he exhales, “My brother is not expecting you this evening Y/N. He knows that you will be prohibited. In fact, he is convinced you will have been compelled not to come.”

“Why didn’t he try to compel me himself?”

“Niklaus is complicated. I have my predictions but…” Elijah pauses, “I’m being careful with what to tell you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “Please don’t. I can handle whatever it is.”

“I have no doubt you can handle anything but this… this you shouldn’t have to handle.” His expression is wearied and you shift further, instinctively in to the house.

Elijah notices. “I don’t want to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

You watch as he turns to leave your doorstep, for a second time, and you lean in to the sky, quickly, pulling him back with a question. “Wait – how old are you?”

Vampires are immortal, that you know. Elijah smiles then, wistful, as if all his years are falling before him: “Too old.”

“Please… I want to know.”

He looks at you and speaks, for the first time, with a simmering pride, “I am one of the first vampires to ever exist. _Very_ old.”

You take too long to formulate a response and he’s gone, leaving years and years of questions in his wake. There it is – his power. Hidden in the shadows of his past and sometimes daring to disturb the present. You shiver, awed.

“What are you doing?”

And Damon is on your path, consuming your view. You jump backwards and his hand flinches as if to steady you.

“Why are you here?” You try, as forcefully as your voice will permit.

“To make sure you aren’t going to do anything stupid… Looks like I came just in time.”

You want to shake off his arrogance, shield yourself from his iced concern. “I’m fine,” you snap.

Damon stiffens, “Oh, _I’m sorry_. We’re just trying to save your life.”

His sarcasm hardens your… whatever it is, you’re feeling. “I wasn’t about to leave.” You try to stare up at him and fail, again. _Damn you, Damon._

“You’re cocky for a human,” he replies, narrowing his eyes.

And he’s right. Elena’s friend (and ex-lover?) aside, Damon is still a vampire and you, beyond these walls have _nothing_. Fear must have crept in to your stance because he relaxes, running a hand through his hair. You curl your arms around your frame, waiting.

“I know… this whole thing – being told to stay put or whatever – must suck,” he swallows, squinting in to the encroaching night, “But Elena and Stefan are working on it. I promise.”

“And you?”

He sighs and chews on his lip, “Can I come in?”

You falter and for a single moment devastation tears across his stare before dissipating in to hollow laughter. “Right, of course, I’m a vampire. Forget I asked.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He turns. “Don’t… you don’t need to be sorry.”

And this Damon feels different to the one you met just the day before. He’s vulnerable, poking holes in the mystery that envelopes him.

“Damon… why are you here?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Because I know Klaus.”

“You think he’s going to come… here?” The fear curls around every word, sitting upon your tongue in near-flight.

Damon stares out in to the street, “Maybe.”

“So… you’re here to stop that happening?”

He shrugs, “Something like that… You don’t have to keep talking to me, by the way. I’m very used to brooding on porches alone.”

You study him. “It’s getting cold,” you say, “Hold on.”

He begins to protest but you turn from the door, leaving it ajar and pick up the large blanket from the couch. It’s blue.

Damon looks at you perplexed as you hand it to him. “Vampires don’t get cold. It’s a bastard in summer actually.”

“Just take the blanket, Damon,” you say firmly and he half-smiles. You think it would be easy to hang your life in that smile.

He pulls it around his shoulders and, as expected, _it_ pulls the brilliant blue from his eyes. _Damn you, Damon… again._

“I bet I look adorable,” he jokes and you roll your eyes. _Yes, completely, but that’s not important._

“Can I ask you something?” You say instead.

The vampire smirks. “Anything. Within reason.”

The question leaps out of you: “How old are you?”

“Ah. The age-question,” Damon says carefully. You watch as he takes a seat on the step, tightening the blanket over his shoulders, looking far younger than whatever age you expect to fall from his mouth in response. “You really want to know?”

And, like with Elijah before, you nod.

He speaks to the sky. “One hundred and seventy-eight. Give or take.”

You find yourself sitting too – in the doorway, in his confession. “How does that feel?”

Damon stays silent for a little while. You wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I don’t know if anyone has ever asked me that,” he says quietly, “Not all at once. All my one hundred and seventy-eight years.”

“Give or take,” you say with a whisper and Damon laughs.

“Give or take.”

You sit in silence for a while. He doesn’t turn to look at you, perhaps just feeling your presence behind him is enough. It’s past seven now but the fear has fallen subordinate to the blanketed contemplating vampire on your grandma’s porch steps. He doesn’t answer your question and you take that, in all its swollen mystery, as an answer.

You’re about to speak when Damon stands in a whooshing motion, sending the blanket flying across the front lawn. “Elijah!?”

You stand too, peering behind the raven-haired vampire. Elijah looks between you both in barely perceptible curiosity – perhaps suspicion.

“Damon. Y/N,” he says carefully, nodding in accession. “I fear Klaus is heading here.”

You stiffen, stepping back in to the hallway. “Damon, you should go.”

The vampire twists to face you, “I’m not going anywhere, you know that!”

You shake your head, “I’m safe here. That’s what you said.”

Elijah nods, seriously. “Go home, Damon. I will wait here for my brother.”

Damon laughs, “I’m not leaving Y/N alone with you and Klaus. No way.”

“It’s foolish for you to be here too,” Elijah argues, “You know he is far stronger.”

But the other vampire shakes his head, stubborn. “Y/N stays with me.”

At this Elijah takes a tentative step towards you, lifting his hand to halt Damon’s reaction. He studies you carefully, searching your face for the unexplainable. You’re scared to breathe in – to inhale his power. “I think,” he begins, his gaze unwavering, “that you should leave.”

Damon reacts immediately in protest but Elijah shakes his head, “Not just you, Damon. Y/N.” The older vampire takes a step back to address Damon’s puzzled expression, “If you’re so insistent on staying with her then you should leave. Both of you. Klaus will come here and I will stay to deal with him.” He turns again to you, and speaks softly, “I’ll keep this house and anyone in it safe, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” you say, honestly.

“Sorry but I’m going to have to interrupt _whatever_ this is and ask where the _hell_ you suggest we go?” Damon snaps, glaring at Elijah.

“I’m sure the Salvatore Boarding House has a spare room,” Elijah supplies, matching Damon’s austerity.

“And then when Klaus comes back?” Damon snaps, exasperated. Elijah chews on his cheek, obviously controlling his patience.

“I told you, I’ll handle Klaus.”

“Sure, until he stabs you in the heart again,” Damon mutters.

Elijah ignores him and speaks to you, “We won’t have long, I’m sure, so get ready to leave.” He pauses and allows his eyes to flicker shut before saying sincerely, “I really am sorry, Y/N.” And you believe him. An original vampire, asking to protect your house from his brother. You push away in to the hallway, closing the front door and leaning against it for some sense of stability. It’s all so dizzying, this new world, tearing and blurring and re-inventing.

Upstairs you find an old duffel bag and begin throwing in a few random scraps from your bedroom floor. You don’t notice your grandma until you feel a hand on your shoulder. She takes the t-shirt from your hand and begins to fold it.

“Grandma, what are you doing?”

“I’m not sure what’s going on sweetpea, but I do know that you have to leave for a little while,” she replies, taking a sweater from the bundle and rolling it in to a corner of the bag.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper and your voice snaps. Your grandma catches your cold hand in her warm fingers.

“We often have to do things we don’t want to, Y/N. But they’re almost always for the best.” She reaches up to quell a tear and you hug her tightly; the Mystic Falls of before. In a nod you know its time and pull the bag over your shoulder.

“You be careful, sweetpea,” she says from the top of the stairs. You almost laugh, anchored by her maternal instinct, even amongst the disorientation.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promise and open the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support so far! As always, feedback is extremely appreciated. I love writing this story so much :)


	4. Chapter 4

 

He’s humming, his fingers hanging off the steering wheel, swinging lazily. Damon smirks, “You keep looking at me.”

You turn back to the window, caught. “No, I don’t.”

“I don’t mind. Stare at me all you want,” he says playfully and you roll your eyes in to the thickening forest.  Damon resumes his low tune and you close your eyes, the past events flickering, like a broken lightbulb, across your mind.

“Sleepy?” the vampire says sweetly and you snap your eyes open, wired and urgent.

“Is he going to be okay?” You say, suddenly.

Damon lifts an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Elijah.”

He tenses around the wheel, “You’re caring about an Original now?”

“He’s protecting my grandma.”

“So he says…”

At this you speak furiously, “What!? We have to go back! You said that-“

“Relaaaax,” Damon interrupts, “Elijah is a man of his word. _Very_ moral. For a vampire.”

You exhale, your hands shaken and cold. You rub them together, as if the friction alone could rid your mind of the Gothic illustrations of demon vampires settled there. Damon reaches to turn the heat up and you glance up at him – his gaze firmly on the road. You try to see a monster there, scratched across his pale skin, drawing teeth and blood and appetite. In the moonlight, your flesh feels exposed.

“Home sweet home,” he says dryly, pulling on to the gravel. You don’t wait for him to open the door for you, pulling on the handle yourself and stepping in to the chilled infancy of night. Damon shrugs, climbing out himself and, with one narrowed look in your direction, crunches up the drive to the mahogany door. You follow his stride, heart thickening. _Please let Elena be there._

She is. You smile in relief at the brunette emerging in the doorframe to take your hand. She looks tired, hair scraped back in to a pony-tail, slippers on her feet. “Damon told me you were coming,” she says kindly, closing the door behind you. The hallway feels warmer than before, more welcoming and you feel yourself relax a little. “Come,” Elena grins, “I’ve set you up a bed upstairs. It’s one of my favourite rooms.”

You twist back to Damon, unsure of what to say if anything at all and he bites his lip, “Go, Y/N. I’ll get a drink.”

The vampire brushes past you and Elena speaks again, “Come on. You’ll like it – I promise.” And you follow, the touch Damon left whispering in shadow on your arm.

Upstairs is a labyrinth. One that Elena has mastered, twisting down corridors with ease. You notice Damon’s bedroom, the room you hid in just yesterday, and look away.

“Most of these are just full of books,” Elena muses, coming to a stop by a room at the end of the narrow hallway.

“Damon reads?”

“They both do.” She turns the door knob to expose the room, “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.”

It is – incredibly so. Blue and gold wallpaper frames the bed in delicate curls; the bed itself cloudlike in its white dress. And on the opposite wall, a round window casting night across it all. You step across the carpet in anticipation and run a hand over the silk bed covers.

“I love this room,” Elena sighs. “It’s smaller than most of the others but it has the best view of the garden… Stefan likes to writer here.”

“I can see why.”

She looks wistful for a moment, taking a seat on the bed and crossing her legs underneath her. You do the same, letting the moonlight lick across your jaw.

“Do you know why any of this is happening?” You ask quietly.

Elena shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m really not sure…It’s like they’re… connected to you or something.”

 _Connected._ The word threatens to jam in your mind so you turn to the woman opposite and ask instead, “How’s Jeremy?”

“You remember him?”

You offer a laugh, “Yeah, I mean, I remember him a lot smaller.”

Elena laughs too, broken and sad. “True. He’s definitely not my little brother anymore…”

“Does he…” you struggle with the question, “know about….?”

“Jeremy? Yeah, he knows… Both of our lives have been changed by it. Completely.”

She looks as if admitting it pains her, all these vampires and their power to re-write. You swallow in the silence. “And what about Caroline… and Bonny? I remember them from Math.”

Elena shakes her head, a strange smile in her expression. “Let’s just say, we’ve all been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

She stands. “Do you want anything to eat? I was going to make a grilled cheese.”

There’s a fragility in her voice. “I’m not that hungry, actually,” you say, “Thank you, though. For everything.”

Elena goes to leave before pausing, “You know, throughout all of this - whatever it is - you’ll find you’re so much stronger than you thought you were.”

* * *

It’s later when you hear a light knock on your door. You’ve been reading one of the novels from the bookshelf, trying to lose yourself in another’s story. Thinking it’s Elena, you push off the bed and open.

“Hi, sorry, I brought your bag,” Damon says, peering down at you, one hand on the door-frame.

“Thanks… I’d forgotten about that,” you say, awkwardly reaching for it.

Damon hesitates and pushes, instead, on the door to give him access. He enters, placing the bag on your bed. “Elena is worried about you,” he says nonchalantly, picking up the book you’ve been reading and screwing up his nose. “Typical Stefan.”

“Why is she worried,” you ask, watching the vampire.

“She thinks you’re just going to stay up here, isolated, worrying yourself to death.”

“Tell her I’m okay.”

Damon regards you, “I wouldn’t say you’re _okay_.”

You pause. “Maybe not completely okay.”

 “So,” he steps toward you, “What do you need? Anything. Literally.”

You look up at him, incredulous.

“I mean it. Food, alcohol, a foot massage, any other type of massage…” He winks suggestively and you actually laugh, confused by the flirting vampire.

Damon settles back on his feet, satisfied. “It’s nice when you laugh,” he says simply.

You blush immediately, praying the dim-lit room is casting enough shadow.

“Damon?” Elena’s voice calls and the vampire rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Elena?”

“Are you harassing our guest?”

“Just being accommodating,” he shouts back.

Elena sounds unconvinced, “Whatever you say, Damon.”

The vampire smirks and looks back at you expectantly. He’s even more… _Damon_ in the dusky glow of lamp-light; navy sleeves rolled back, exposing strong arms and hair, falling in part against his concerned brow. You shift your stare to the floor.

“Thank you, really, but I think I’m going to get an early night.”

He nods, stepping out of the doorway and tilts his head in a sleepy smile, “Sleep well Y/N.”

And yet, it is as if the Salvatore spoke a curse because you can’t, and not for lack of trying, fall asleep. Klaus and Elijah consume the darkness with every eye close, just standing before your grandmother’s house. And Damon, with his flirtatious smirk, touching your hand and flinching. You throw the covers from your body and take a breath. The world is quiet, deadly almost, but you’re sleepless and… _hungry._

The floorboards creak under your step so you tread carefully. You think about waking Elena but you’re unsure of where she sleeps and run the risk of waking Damon, someone who you can’t even _begin_ to unpick right now. He shall remain, with the other two, in the pile of unexplained mysteries – for now, the focus was food.

You find your way under the slices of moonlight shedding from the hall windows, trailing your hand on the banister and delicately descending the staircase. Although cooler, the house remains a pleasant temperature and you debate shrugging off your over-sized college hoodie. That is until you notice Stefan, sitting on the crimson couch. He turns immediately, surprised, perhaps, and smiles in welcome.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You walk tentatively in to the grand room. “Sorry, I just assumed you’d be asleep.”

Stefan takes a sip of his drink and places it on the little glass table. It’s a thick, dark liquid. Almost purple. _Almost._ “Vampires don’t have to sleep,” he says casually, stretching to his full height. He regards you, “I’m guessing you couldn’t.”

“Er no, not really.”

Stefan nods, “I’m not surprised.”

He runs a hand through his hair, shifting awkwardly in his stance. You like him, you decide.

“I’m really hungry actually,” you say with a quiet laugh, “Should have taken up Elena’s offer of grilled cheese.”

At this Stefan springs in to action, “Oh! Sure, I’ll see what we have in the fridge.”

You follow him across the hall and in to a large wooden kitchen shadowed by dark beams in cross-hatch. Stefan switches on the light and you squint your eyes to adjust. “Sorry,” he says quickly and shake your head.

“Okay so we’ve got bread and…. cheese… and? Actually, that’s pretty much it.” He glances at you, “We need to go shopping.”

“Bread is fine,” you reassure him and Stefan looks relieved.

It confuses you, their hospitality, their willingness to take you in. Feed you. Protect you. You watch Stefan’s back as he fumbles around for a knife to carve the loaf. Settling against the counter top, you decide to be brave. “That drink you had… was that….?”

He keeps cutting. “Blood? Yes, it was.”

The words feel heavy on your ears, ugly even, but you carry on.  “Human blood?”

Stefan places a small plate of bread in front of you and stands back against the sink. He seems to muse over how to answer. The silence confirms enough and you take a bread slice, feeling the texture with your fingers, unsure how to eat suddenly.

“We get it from blood bags,” he says quietly. “Now, at least. But I’ve killed before. Too many times.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He speaks to the floor, “I guess I just wanted to be honest about what I am.”

You can understand that, in all its terrifying, perverse declaration.

“But you and Elena….” You trail off, placing the bread back on the plate.

“I love her,” he says simply, as if love is enough to pacify the monster. You believe him.

 “And you just… don’t want to?”

Stefan laughs, hollow and quiet. “The vampire part of me always wants to. With _anyone_ , even Elena. It’s never satisfied and it never will be.”

He speaks with broken shame and you hate it – that part, the monster that prowls beneath the skin, threatening you, them, the world. “But that part is much smaller, much quieter than the human,” he says firmly. “I drink from the blood bags to ease the craving and it does. Yet… hiding, within all that, is the dissatisfaction. You just have to refuse to give it attention.”

“The inner demon,” you say quietly.

Stefan nods, “Exactly.”

**A/N: Just a little filler chapter for you all. Klaus will be in the next installment, I promise and we will see a little more reader x Klaus *exciting* Feedback is very much welcomed, as always!**


	5. Chapter 5

You awake to tentative sunlight entering the bedroom. Downstairs, you hear chatter, indistinct and happy – morning welcomed with open arms in the Salvatore house.

“Y/N, hi.” From behind her coffee cup, Elena smiles. She’s in pyjamas, sleepy laughter in her eyes. “Do you want some breakfast?”

You glance at the vampire by the stove. The kitchen is much larger in the morning sunshine.

“I’m making pancakes,” Stefan says simply. “You in?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Like last night, you lean against the counter and watch as Elena slides an arm around her boyfriend’s waist, how he bends to kiss her head. They’re framed so perfectly: the vampire and the human, settled in love.

“Damon’s sleeping in late,” Elena muses and you straighten, tense, as if he is standing behind you.

“He left, I think,” Stefan replies. He flips the pancake on to a plate, satisfied. “Bon appetite, mon Cheri.”

Elena shakes her head, “Guests first”, and pushes the plate across the counter to you. You smile in thanks, pulling out a bar stool. It’s as though you belong in the picture too.

“Where did he go?” you ask as nonchalantly as you can.

Stefan laughs, “You never know with, Damon.”

You eat in contented silence and watch the sky brighten out the window, the sun drawn high, like a crest, atop it. Damon’s absence relaxes you yet leaves you wondering, maybe even a little wanting. They don’t look much a like – him and Stefan. Neither do Elijah and Klaus. You struggle to finish your breakfast thinking of the latter pair.

“Jeremy and Caroline are coming over soon,” Elena announces. Stefan looks surprised and Elena shrugs, “What? It’s not like we can easily leave.”

She doesn’t sound bitter but the comment hovers, awkward, between mouthfuls. You speak to your plate, “I’m really sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Y/N,” Stefan says softly.

Elena nods, “We’ll fix this. We always do.”

The couple share a look; the kind that feels wrong to intrude upon. Elena had hinted at that last night – all that they’ve been through. You excuse yourself quietly and only once upstairs, freckled in sunlight, do you exhale. This new world tightens around you, overwhelmingly so but in the silence, you close your eyes, window light trailing across the self-induced darkness. Outside is a garden. A large one, sprawling and wild and you begin to crave its air, again, a prisoner. Elena would never let you outside alone but the thought of a chaperone is almost worse. A teasing freedom.

Voices, more of them, are heard as you creep down the stairs. Caroline and Jeremy must have arrived, the former singing her presence just as loud as you had remembered her being years before. Grateful for the distraction, you walk fast, pivoting from the staircase and down the hall. You hear the front door close and Elena’s laugh and you turn a corner, twisting out of eyesight. The back door is unlocked, hinting at the garden, a little ajar. It makes you pause; the outside wanting you there. You push open the door.

Outside is alive and you too, feel alive in it. You begin to run, revelling in the speed of your heart, the openness. You run until you reach a wall – cobbled and broken. The boarding house blinks in sunshine.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Klaus leaps on to the wall, hands clasped on his lap in waiting. He sighs in to the air, stretching his arms in to the wind, eyes closed.

“How did you get here?” you manage to say.

“I simply outmanoeuvred my brother. And Damon, bless him.”

_Damon._

The Original jumps from the wall to face you, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t touch them,” he says simply and you are startled by the relief that swells, however transient.

“I suppose you’re meant to be in there,” he gestures towards the house, “hiding from the big bad wolf.” His smile looks out of place.

You speak bravely, “Should I be hiding?”

Klaus tilts his head, a strange wonder in his stare.  “Yes.”

You don’t move. Neither does he. “I’m sorry you had to leave your home,” he says quietly. “I don’t always handle… things well. Old habits, I suppose.” He reaches in to his jacket pocket and you flinch at the movement. Klaus glances up at you before retrieving a piece of brown paper. “I like to draw,” he admits, almost embarrassed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I would do without it.” He pauses to capture you again, “Anyway, I drew you something.”

The picture in front of you is of a bench. It’s on the edge of a cliff, etchings of an ocean scattered across the right-hand corner. “I know it’s strange,” Klaus says gently, “but I couldn’t get the image out of my head.” You hold the sketch in silence, alive and coloured in your mind because the Original vampire has drawn, somehow, your favourite place in the world.

“Y/N!”

His voice rips you from your memory. Klaus darkens, glaring at his brother, and you fold the sketch in to four.

“Hello, brother,” he drawls, agitated.

Elijah looks past him to you, his eyes tilted in concern. “Are you alright?”

You can barely think. The drawing still in your hand, the suited vampire rushing to protect you. You want to shout at them both, at all of them _Why do you care so much!_

“Relax, Elijah, I’m leaving. You can all go back to protecting her from me.” The other vampire bows, sarcastic, perhaps even hurt. Elijah grinds his jaw, hands behind his back. Klaus pauses for a moment, daring you. Taking the silence, he moves, disappearing on the wind.

Elijah occupies the space his brother was. He clears his throat, “Your grandmother is perfectly well.”

“Thank you.”

The sun catches in his modest smile. Again, he clears his throat, the 1000 year-old-vampire, unsure how to speak.

“Shall we…”

He nods, “Yes. Good idea.”

You walk to the door in heavy silence, wanting to say everything but finding no words strong enough to leave in the wind. He reaches the door first, opening it for you to enter, looking above your head as if afraid to meet your eyes. Your fingers brush, just slightly, as you take the frame from him and he traps you, suddenly, in a gaze, intensity and longing pulling at yours. He lifts his hand, burned by your fleeting touch as you are by his stare.

“Y/N?” You hear Stefan’s call and respond immediately, shaking off Elijah’s eyes.

“I’m here!”

Stefan swings in to the corridor, relieved. “Damon said that Klaus was heading over here and- Elijah.”

The vampire behind you steps out of shadow and gently closes the back door. “Hello, Stefan.”

The look between them is curious, something unsettled drawing, not maliciously, but uncertain. “The others are in the living room,” Stefan says in reply. He pauses, “You’re welcome to stay, Elijah.”

But the handsome vampire shakes his head, “That’s very kind of you, Stefan, but I think Y/N needs to-“

“I don’t mind,” you interrupt. The Original softens, his lip twitching before another, smaller, head shake.

“I should probably schedule a family meeting,” he says instead and Stefan raises an eyebrow, amused.

He gestures out the corridor and Elijah walks, you following, Stefan behind. The living room erupts when you enter; Elena jumping from the couch to embrace you, Caroline standing too.

“Don’t do that again,” Elena says firmly, holding you at arm’s length. Stefan chuckles, leaning against the banister and you feel, in that moment, utterly at home. Somehow, within this new world, you’ve carved a place for yourself to perhaps not just survive, but live.

“Elijah.”

You hadn’t noticed Damon seated on the window ledge, a glass in his hand. He stands, eyes narrowed, inspecting the silent Original.

“Damon,” Elijah responds. He surveys the room, noticing Elena’s hand still on my arm. “I was just leaving.”

“Good.”

The room stills. Damon smirks.

“Don’t be a child, Damon,” Elijah drawls and again, you feel those undulant waves of power, simmering, waiting.

But the raven-haired vampire starts walking, tilting his drink playfully, _foolishly._ “You know you scare her, right?”

“What did you just say?”

The silence that follows is palpable, the room stiff in it. Stefan watches his brother. You see him shake his head, a warning. Damon just laughs, “Look at her,” he turns to you, his drink sloshing on the ground by your feet, “she’s _terrified_.”

Elijah darts, ignited with sudden ferocity, his hand around Damon’s throat. He hisses in to his ear: “You will not speak like that again.”

Elena moves, pulling on Elijah’s hand, Stefan too, the room attempting to reason with him. You watch like you’re viewing a scene – passive, uninvolved when it’s you they’re fighting over. Damon’s coughing, clawing at the hand, for breath and Elijah turns. He sees your fear. Then, the front door closes and Damon collapses on the ground, spluttering.

 **A/N: Sorry this took so long to post! I had a sudden urge to write the next chapter this afternoon so here we are. Definitely, not my best writing but a chapter is a chapter, right?** Everything **is so angsty in this story lol! As always, reviews are encouraged :)**


	6. Chapter 6

“Dick,” Damon coughs, climbing back on to his feet. His neck is raw from where the Original’s hand had clasped it. You shrink against the cold wood of the bannister and try to breathe a kind of calm across your heart.

“You can’t provoke him like that,” Caroline is saying and Elena nods in concern.

But Damon is arrogant and shrugs and for a moment, glances at you. Perhaps only there is he embarrassed. Perhaps you both are.

“Elijah needs to stay the hell away from Y/N. That’s all.” He speaks with certainty, eyes narrowed towards some ambiguous distance and you wonder if he _really_ believes he has any power against him. From the little time you’ve spent with Damon, it seems logic falls subordinate to will. It’s a reckless admiration.

But you disagree. “I… don’t think they’re trying to hurt me.”

At your words, Damon snorts. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

You remember the folded drawing in your pocket and his dismissal irritates you. “If they wanted to, they would have done.”

The blue-eyes vampire remains incredulous but Stefan nods. “Y/N has a point, Damon.”

“This is Elijah and _Klaus_ we’re talking about! Not your average homicidal maniac. There’s always an agenda.”

“Things have changed, Damon,” says Elena softly, placing a hard on his arm.

Damon yanks it away. “This is what they want you to think.” He looks to his friends in exasperation, until, finally, he speaks to you. “Y/N… you don’t know them…they’re not- “

“I don’t know you,” you interrupt.

The vampire stiffens and his brow drops into a hardened line. “You’re right,” he says blankly, “You don’t.” A swollen silence fills the space between you and Damon closes his eyes to escape it. “I’m going to take a walk.”

“Damon, wait- “Stefan begins but his brother just smiles tightly and exits with the same speed Elijah had done. The door bangs uglily in the pause.

“Always one for the dramatics,” Caroline says but the mirth dissolves in the tension he left behind. The rest of the living room collapses into smaller conversations and you stand at the stairs watching it all – Elena and Stefan, sharing looks of concern, Caroline, asking Jeremy if he’s got through to Bonnie yet. You unsettled this peace, however fragile. The vampire in the suit, the vampire with a pencil, the vampire with the warped saviour complex: they all have this connection to you and it’s _dizzying_.

Stefan looks up from his conversation. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

He doesn’t believe it. “We just want you to feel safe,” he says carefully and Elena nods.

“I know,” you reply.

“We’ve asked Bonnie to look into anything to do with a vampire/human connection,” the brunette supplies.

You remember Bonnie. The last girl in Elena’s trio of best friends: smart, pretty, quieter than Caroline. What role did she play in this world?

Stefan smiles – a feigned reassurance – and you stretch your mouth in imitation. “Thank you.”

* * *

Through the bedroom wind, the sun lowers over the Salvatore garden. Several times Elena has come to check on you, asking if you want food, company, anything. But you want an answer and even Bonnie, the witch, laden with spell books, can’t give you one. Damon hasn’t returned and at this, the brunette sounds concerned. It weighs on you like you every other disruption you’ve caused.

The footsteps in the corridor, beyond the door, are probably Elena’s again and you sit up, not wanting her to think you’ve spent another hour in your thoughts lying on the bed. She knocks but the figure at the door is a vampire.

“A bit antisocial, don’t you think?” is all he says.

You don’t respond. Damon leans against the doorframe. He clears his throat. “I wanted to say sorry for earlier. I just…. It doesn’t matter now. I was stupid.”

“It’s okay.” It sounds flat, unconvincing.

“No, it’s not.”

You stretch your fingers over the bedcovers, smoothing out the creases.

He sighs, “I haven’t been honest with you, Y/N. I’m not really sure _how_ to be.”

Your fingers pause, anticipated. You speak to his clenched jaw. “I… need you to be.”

The vampire in the doorway nods, “I know.” He steps into the bedroom and the pooling sunset covers his skin in strange iridescent film. Damon pauses in the light to look at you. “I don’t want to scare you,” he admits softly.

“I’m already scared,” you say with an unbalanced smile and Damon’s eyes crinkle.

“Nice honesty… I guess I owe you the same, right?”

He sounds so nervous it sets a tremor in your chest. As he speaks, Damon looks intently at the now-orange garden: “When we met, I touched your hand and…” He glances at you, shaking his head. “This is going to sound crazy.”

“Crazier than vampires?”

He lifts an eyebrow, “Maybe not.”

The vampire watches the garden again as if gathering the words from the window. “When we met, I touched your hand and I _felt_ something.” He turns to you, suddenly energised. “I felt human, Y/N. And it was incredible. A peace I hadn’t experienced in over a century and then… I felt you with me.”

Damon’s gaze is alive with whatever he saw in you – sees in you – and its intoxicating. You look away, pressing your hand into the mattress. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I! But I’ve felt it every time we’ve touched since.” He’s shaking his head, almost liberated by his admission.

“You felt me… with you?”

“I…,” Damon stops. Nervous.

Your heart is hammering.

The vampire speaks quietly, “I felt love.” His eyes burn blue under the orange sunset, burn yours.  “I think I was in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A teeny *long overdue* update. Thank you so much for all the support and for inspiring me to continue with this story. Here’s hoping the wait for the next chapter will be SIGNIFICANTLY shorter than this one 😊 As always, reviews are encouraged.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you'd like me to continue! I have lots of ideas ;)


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